Fire and Ice
by Song Prophet
Summary: A collection of Draco/Ginny Songfics.
1. Narcissus

Title: Narcissus

Author: Song Prophet 

Pairing: Ginny/Draco

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just borrowing!

Dedication: To all the fans of Meanie!Draco and Broken but still fixable!Ginny.

Distribution: Sure! Just give me credit, and tell me where you're putting it.

Songs: Narcissus by Alanis Morissette

Summary: Ginny is unhappy, Draco is an ass. Will he ever love her back?

~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear momma's boy I know you've had your butt licked by your mother_

I know you've enjoyed all that attention from her 

The house was dark. Darker than it usually was, but then again, she should have been used to him not being there when she returned. And quieter. Where were the house elves? Somehow, it seemed darker now than it ever had been. Perhaps it was because he was not there. Or perhaps it was because he would be soon. She was not quite sure which way her will bent on that matter, and she doubted she ever would.

Clutching the bag of groceries to her chest, she flipped on the nearest light switch. The foyer of the house was immediately illuminated by a soft glow from the chandelier above. A wedding gift from Hermione and Ron. A pity gift. She sighed as she moved through the room, and through a swinging door, into the kitchen.

On the counter was a rolled up parchment. She made no move toward it, instead setting her bag down on the counter next to it. As she unloaded the basics, she stared at it, knowing exactly what it would say. Well, perhaps not the exact words, but the general gist. Excuses. That is what it held.

Once the groceries where unloaded and in their proper place, thanks to the help of the house elves, who had appeared mysteriously to help her, she picked the parchment up. Pushing her way out the kitchen door, she made her way through the living room and toward the sweeping staircase.

She paused as she caught her reflection in a mirror on her way toward the stairs. There were mirrors everywhere in the house. Her husband was a very vain man, after all, and wanted to look upon himself constantly. She was still every bit as beautiful as she was the day she had graduated from Hogwarts. As the day she had walked down the aisle. She had to have been; Otherwise, she wouldn't have been qualified to be the Trophy Wife that she was.

Her hair had grown well down her back, nearly reaching her buttocks; That was how he liked it. Long, so he could entangle his hands in it. It curled and twisted perfectly, framing her face. The red in it had faded from a bright color, to a tame, noble one. Much like she had faded.

Her eyes were still the same color of green, but the twinkle they had once held was gone. She scoffed at her reflection, not liking the woman who looked back at her at all, and continued up the stairs.

Reaching the safety of her bedroom, she closed the door carefully, so as not to wake up anymore house elves. She stumbled a little in the dark, before she felt the smooth, cold surface of her bed lamp. Flicking this on, she glanced at the large window to her right, looking to see if the heavy red tapestries where closed. Now confident that she could not be viewed by the outside world, she continued toward the bed, unbuttoning her robe as she went. As soon as it was unbuttoned, she let it drop to the floor.

Perching on the bed, she unrolled the parchment, and read over it silently. 

_And__ every woman graced with your presence after_

_Dear Narcissus boy, I know you've never really apologized for anything._

It was as she suspected. Her husband was at his mothers, as he always was on Thursday nights. At least that was what the letter told her. He did not apologize. Did not say any words of endearment. Just told her where he was, and that he would stop by her room when he got home. And he told her not to wait up.

She sighed, wondering if he really was at his mothers, or if he was spreading his favors among the many Muggle and Wizard women who trailed after him. She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Their marriage was one of convenience, after all, not of love.

_I know you've never really taken responsibility_

_I know you've never really listened to a woman_

Towards the beginning of their marriage, she had tried to make him love her. Back when she still had the free will and the strength to fight him on such things. But she had long since given up.

Sighing, Virginia Elizabeth Weasley-Malfoy bent over and pulled her boots off, giving an appreciative noise at the release of her feet from their tight prison. She let the boots fall to the floor, knowing one of the house elves would pick them up for her later.

Ignoring the null pain in her feet, she went about the task of undressing. There was no point in getting too many clothes on, if he was going to 'visit' her later. Clothes would only aggravate him, which would cause more pain for her later. 

She crossed the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind, and entered her closet. This too was dark, and she quickly turned on the light, finding the darkness unnerving for some reason that night. She looked around, half sighing at her selection. Back in her youth, she doubted her entire family had owned as many clothes as she had in front of her now. That used to thrill the money, the luxury. But now it was just another trap that held her in her life.

She selected a cream slip like nightgown. It was silk, and smooth against her skin, and she smiled a little as she slipped it over her arms and head, letting it fall down to cling to her curves. She let out a soft yawn as she did so, and after turning the light back off, made her way into her room.

She let herself sink on to the bed before reaching out and turning out the light. Darkness quickly overtook her, but she ignored it, telling herself it was silly to feel unnerved in the dark. She practically lived her life in it anyway. Besides, she chided to herself, she would need all the sleep she could get before he returned home.

_Dear me-show boy I know you're not really into conflict resolution_

_Or seeing both sides of every equation_

_Or having an uninterrupted conversation_

Vaguely aware of someone shaking her awake, she returned reluctantly back to reality from her dream world. Her eyes opened reluctantly, and as they focused in the darkness, she began to make out her husband's form leaning over her.

"Draco?"

She could feel his hand running down her thigh. "Of course."

She fell silent after that, rolling onto her back from her side. It wasn't her place to say much more. It had taken awhile, but she had learned her duty. Any other words she would have said would have been stopped anyway, as he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers almost viscously, his tongue begging entrance.

She obliged, opening her mouth. His tongue slipped in, probing her mouth, as his hand crept back up her thigh, pushing the slip up further and further.

She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the kiss much as she had sunk into the bed. He would always be able to give her an amount of pleasure she had never dreamed imaginable in her entire life. She was never disappointed.

And yet- Everything was mechanical for her. Yes, it felt great, but it just another one of the things she had to do. There in the darkness, was the only time he was her husband, beyond the social parties, but she did not take any pleasure in this night time marriage.

Inside, she still clung to the romantic idea of him loving her, and she loving him. Somewhere buried beneath the woman he had carved out of her, was the dream that someday, things would be the way she had always imagined them to be in her youth.

_And__ any talk of healthiness_

_And__ any talk of connectedness_

_And__ any talk of resolving this_

Leaves you running for the door 

She took a deep breath as he collapsed onto her in exhaustion. Their ragged breath came in unison as they both struggled to take in enough air to return to breathing normally. She chided herself for her weakness as a single tear fell from her eye. Because she knew there would be no cuddling. No relaxing in each other's arms. He didn't have the patience or the love for her to do that.

But …she knew she could make him say it. He would never mean it, but he would say it.

"Draco?"

"Yes." He whispered back.

"I need to hear you say it."

"I thought you were over that."

"Please?"

She sounded desperate, and she knew it, but she craved those three simple words like she craved sleep and water. Anything to feed the small fire of hope she held inside. He was silent for a moment, pulling his boxers on, and then his pants.

"I love you." He grunted, standing, and walking out of the room, carrying his shirt, robes, and her heart out with him.

She let another tear fall as the door shut, reaching for her nightgown. She slipped it on soundlessly, then rolled back over onto her side. "I love you too."

_Why why do I try to love you_

_Try to love you when you really don't want me to_

She awoke the next day to find the house empty, save for the house elves, who were running around like chickens without heads, cleaning, and, she discovered as she stumbled into the kitchen, cooking. Holding her robe closed tighter, she looked around, trying to understand why everyone was in such a hurry.

"What is going on?" 

One of the house elves looked up from her pot. Sandy, her name was. "Did you forget mistress? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are coming today. Yes, they is."

She nodded absently. How could she have forgotten that her brother and Hermione were coming? She put a hand to her head, feeling a little dizzy. She leaned against the countertop to keep her balance, and opened her eyes to find that the house elves in the kitchen were staring at her.

"Sandy is sorry she did not remind you."

"Are you all right, Mistress?"

She nodded, making her way out of the kitchen, and into the dining room. House elves were running around about her, setting the table for five. She dismissed this, and headed up the stairs to dress. Perhaps Harry and Cho were coming as well.

_Dear egotist boy you've never really had to suffer any consequence_

_You've__ never stayed with anyone longer than ten minutes_

You'd never understand anyone showing resistance 

"Gin?

She looked up from her goblet towards her brother, who was staring back at her the same way the house elves had that morning. Averting her gaze, she looked over at Hermione, who was giving Harry a look of apprehension. Cho was simply staring at her plate, pushing her asparagus around with her knife.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "Of course."

"Where is Draco today?" Hermione asked casually.

"Off doing business, I suppose."

Silence descended upon the group once again. She took this chance to inspect them, the four closest people to her, besides her absent husband. Harry looked the way he always had, completed with the unruly hair, glasses, and mischievous twinkle in his eye. Cho was still an absolute beauty, with her dark blue eyes and raven hair. Ron had grown handsome over the years, and Hermione had a classic beauty that was unrivaled.

They all were happy. Happily married, happily living. At the moment, their faces had different degrees of worry written clearly on them, but they were happy.  And she hated them for it.

"We're worried about you." Cho finally said.

"And why is that?" She answered, bringing the goblet to her lips and taking a deep gulp of the wine it held.

"He's killing you, Ginny." Hermione replied.

She laughed, trying to hide how close that had hit home. "What ever do you mean?"

Ron frowned. "You know what she means."

"You're unhappy. We can tell." Cho offered.

She stood, setting the glass down. "And what if I am? I'm sorry I am bringing your happiness down with me! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

She walked past them, holding back tears. They wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her own friends, ganging up on her like that. Didn't they know? Didn't they see that there was nothing she could do to change any thing?! She heard the chairs being pushed back, and she heard them start to walk after them, but she neither slowed, nor sped up her pace.

"Ginny, why don't you stand up to him?!"

She stopped at her brother's words, turning on her heel, looking back at the four worried faces staring back at her, and laughed. "Me? Stand up to him. Oh, Ron. You crack me up."

"I'm serious." He replied.

"He would never stand for it. Never." She answered.

"Ginny, you have to do something. Talk to him. Leave him. Before he destroys you." Cho said.

She laughed again, turning back around, and running back up the stairs. Didn't they understand? He would only get angry, and hurt her even more. He would never let her stand up to him. Ever.

_Dear popular boy I know you're used to getting everything so easily_

_A stranger to the concept of reciprocity_

People honor boys like you in this society 

And yet, their words still echoed in her mind that night at dinner. She had changed into a dress she knew he liked, and had arranged her hair half up, making herself beautiful for him. And yet she still defied him in her own way, choosing to wear a corset and undergarments instead of foregoing them.

He was sitting across from her, picking at his dinner in silence. His hair wasn't perfect for once, she assumed he hadn't had time to shower after his last encounter with one of his women. But he looked radiant to her. The way his hair fell across his face, the way he held his goblet half in the air, in silent contemplation.

"How was your day?" She asked, breaking the silence.

"Long."

She knew this meant that he didn't want to talk about it, but, fired on by her friend's words, she didn't drop the subject. Well, she did, but it was only to bring up another one. She picked up her goblet, drained it of its wine, and drew upon a source of courage she didn't know she had.

_And__ any talk of selflessness_

_And__ any talk of working at this_

_And__ any talk of being of service_

Leaves you running for the door 

"I don't want to live like this anymore."

He looked up from his plate in surprise, dropping his fork onto the plate. It made a loud noise, and she shut her eyes against it, and against him. "Excuse me?!"

"I can't live like this." She replied.

"Is this not good enough for you? You, the girl brought from rags to riches, by me. Me!"

She winced, but opened her eyes, staring straight at him. "I want you to love me. I want you to be my husband, not some man who screws me as he sees fit."

He laughed at that, but that didn't stop her. He looked down at his plate, chuckling to himself, as she stood up and stared at the top of his head.

"I want to be happy."

He looked up then, his gaze meeting hers. "There is no such thing as happiness."

And then he was standing, and he was walking out, out of the house, slamming the door behind him, despite her cries, and her attempts to apologize.

_Why why do I try to help you try to help you_

_When you really don't want me to_

She was lying awake in bed, rebuking herself for her foolishness, when she heard the door open, then slam. She could hear his footsteps hard against the tile. And as she listened, she heard the house elves yelp, and the sound of them running from him. There was silence, and then there was the sound of another door slamming.

Pulling back the covers reluctantly, she set her feet on the cold floor. Not even bothering to put her robe on, she made her way out of the room, and descended down into the darkness of the first floor. There was a soft glow coming from his office. She paused in front of the door, contemplating just going back to bed.

She put her hand on the doorknob, nearly jumping at how cold it was, then turned it. The door swung open slowly as she pushed it, peering in.

He was in a heap by the fire. Without a thought toward their argument, she rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, through bloodshot eyes, and she softly ran her hand up and down his back. He was drunk, yes, but there was something else there, something she had never seen before.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

He didn't answer her, just turned and stared into the fire. She just kept running her hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him. 

Without warning, he shoved her off him. She hit the floor next to them, sliding a little, as he stood up and glared down at her. "You ungrateful little bitch."

He left her there, walking out of the room. She listened, carefully, until she heard the front door slam, then she let the tears fall.

_You go back to the women who will dance the dance_

_You go back to your friends who will lick your ass_

_You go back to ignoring all the rest of us_

_You go back to the center of your universe_

He had been gone for three days. She had ignored it the first day, worried the second day, and today, she was downright livid. She had stood up to him, and he had just disappeared. He had a responsibility to the house, and to society.

She knew what he was doing. He was off screwing any woman who was willing. He was drinking with his friends. He was sinking back into a torpor that all Death Eaters suffered, although he wasn't a death eater. 

He hadn't sent her message. He hadn't even acknowledged that she was at home waiting for him. 

She dropped the grocery list onto the counter, angrily. Let the house elves take care of it for once. She was not in the mood.

_Dear self-centered boy I don't know why I still feel affected by you_

_I've__ never lasted very long with someone like you_

I never did although I have to admit I wanted to 

He slipped into her bedroom that night giving her sloppily viscous kisses that caused her pain. She kissed him back only in attempt to ease the pain he was causing, without much success. And as he stripped himself of his clothes, and her of her own, she stared up at him incredulously, wondering how she had put up with him for so long.

He ran his fingers down from her shoulders to her kneecaps, and she shivered in delight, remembering now. Because she loved him. That was why. He still moved her, even as he was killing her from the inside out.

_Dear magnetic boy you've never been with anyone who doesn't take your shit_

_You've__ never been with anyone who's dared to call you on it_

_I wonder how you'd be if someone were to call you on it_

She sighed as he fell asleep next to her. They had been married for five years, and they had only slept in the same bed twice. On their wedding night, and now. She turned to her side, looking at him, enjoying the chance to gaze at him without fear of retribution or him leaving.

He appeared so innocent, so harmless. So perfect. But she knew the truth. That he was far from that. She had always sugar coated things for herself, but there was no denying that he was far from innocent.

Reaching out, carefully, so as not to wake him, she pushed a piece of hair from his face. Her fingers continued down, traveling down to his chin. His strong chin. She leaned over him carefully, kissing his lips as softly as possible. His lips moved against hers, softly, in a caress, sending shivers up her spine.

It was moments like this that made her stay with him. When he smiled at her, or when he brought her back something simple, something she enjoyed. 

And she knew her friends, her brother, and her family would never understand it. But she knew she wouldn't be able to survive without him. He had grown on her, and moments like the one she was experiencing then gave her hope that she may someday grow on him.

_And__ any talk of willingness_

_And__ any talk of both feet in_

_And__ any talk of commitment_

_Leaves you running for the door_

She awoke with a start to find him sitting up, and awake. He had his boxers in his hand, but seemed a tad sluggish. She sat up as well, putting one slender hand on his arm.

"Please." She pleaded. "Stay. Just this once."

"Why? Why would I do that?" He answered.

"Just…give me a chance. Try to love me."

He laughed. "I'm not capable of love. You should know that by now."

"Would it kill you to try?" She asked.

He didn't reply. He just slipped his boxers on, and walked out of the room, not even noticing, or caring, that he had left the rest of his things strewn across the room. She stifled a cry, refusing to give in to the urge to just bawl, and lay back down, not even bothering getting dressed again.

_Why why do I try to change you try to_

_Try to change you when you really don't want me to_

That night, she knock door softly, nervously, his things folded and held across her chest with her other arm. She had never been permitted in his room before, though she had snuck in once in the early days of their marriage, laying on his bed and inhaling the scent of him.

There was no answer. Nervously, she opened the door, peering inside.

There was no sign of him. She set his things on his bed, noticing that it was still the same as it had been when she had been in the room before. A few things had changed though. His wardrobe was open, and there was a sizeable amount of clothes missing.

"He's gone again."  She whispered to herself.

On the bed side table, she found a framed picture of his mother, who was standing rather still, and stiffly, smiling towards the camera, And in a much smaller frame next to it, a photo of her. Gasping, she placed a finger on the photo version of herself, watching as she grinned, giggled, waved, and winked.

It had been taken five years before. Before things got bad, and before Lucius had disappeared. She stared at it disbelieving. He kept a picture of her by his bed. She had pictures of him, of course, but they were on display downstairs. There were none in her room.

Sighing with hope, she lay on his bed, knowing that, for tonight at least, she could sleep in his bed.

You go back to the women who will dance the dance 

_You go back to your friends who will lick your ass_

_You go back to being so oblivious_

_You go back to the center of the universe_


	2. After The Rain Has Fallen

Title: After The Rain Has Fallen

Author: Song Prophet

Pairing: D/G

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just borrowing!

Dedication: To Gauri, my caffeine.

Feedback: Makes me a very happy camper, who writes more!

Distribution: Sure! Just give me credit, and tell me where you're putting it.

Songs: After The Rain Has Fallen by Sting.

Summary: Draco comes in the night to get his things back from Ginny Weasley. He does not bargain that she will ask to come with him as well. Will he abandon her there to a man she has never known, or will he go out of his way to save the daughter of an enemy from a life she is better than?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There would be nothing but silence inside the house. Pure and utter silence. All of her guards- Her brothers, that damned Potter, and the mudblood- were sound asleep, peacefully dreaming of the day that was to come. From his position in the bushes next to the house, if one could call it that, he could feel their sleep, their lazy sleep and their pathetic dreams.

There was a soft glow coming from the majority of the windows, coming from the dying embers of their fires. In the background, he could almost hear the approaching rain. The house itself was dimly visible in the light of the quarter moon.

Running across the grass to the front door quickly, silently, he pulled out his wand and whispered a spell softly. A spell to disarm any protection spell they had up. A spell to unlock the door. There was a soft glow emitted from the wand, and in that instant, he could make out his features in the glass of the door in front of him.

He looked the same as he had the last time any of them had seen him, but he was older, and had experienced much more. This could be seen in his eyes. His cold grey eyes that drew people in, and kept them there for as long as he so pleased. But he was still the same on the outside- He still had that distinctly handsome face, that perfect blond hair. His face, as usual, wore a smirk, this one of the determined sort.

The door bent to the will of the spell, and he turned the doorknob, opening it slowly, carefully, without a sound. The kitchen was glowing from the dying fire in the hearth on the wall next to him- He could make out a large table with ten chairs around it, though he knew that only nine were occupied now that the insufferable Percy had managed to find a wife.

Moving from the kitchen to the stairwell, from the glow to the darkness, he moved quietly and quickly. Nothing was going to stop him from what he had come for- Tom Riddle's Diary, the Time-Turner, and his Auraton. 

The Auraton had been his fathers, and his grandfathers before that. It had been passed down to him for his seventeenth birthday, and had been forced to leave it behind in the Astronomy Tower when she had entered unexpectantly. She'd had it for at least a year now, and he wanted his things back. As for the Time-Turner she was using for school- It would be useful to him and his cause.

Getting bored with his little spy game, he apparated directly into her room. There were few things that brought him joy anymore- Breaking and entering was somehow one of them. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was doing something illegal, something that could get him in trouble, that made it exciting. Made him feel almost alive.

He could feel the storm getting closer and closer as he whispered the Lumos spell and a light appeared at the end of his wand. Her room was much more elegant then he expected it to be. Instead of the cluttered, shabby room he had thought he would find, there was organization and style. 

One wall was lined top to bottom with book shelves, much like his was. There were all sorts of books there- Books on Divination, Arithmancy, History, Dark Arts and the Defense against it. Every subject imaginable. She slept in a mahogany four poster bed and next to it was a hearth, with a fire that had died out only minutes before.

Now he could feel his objects, just as he felt his own heartbeat. They were his, and a part of him, and now he moved toward a nightstand next to her bed, where he could feel them pulsating, calling out to him.

Muttering the same spell he had used on the door, he opened the top drawer, pointing his wand light at it expectantly. But as he leaned down further to pull out what he knew was there, a shrill sound came from within, and he heard her sit up straight in bed, looking over at him as though she were still dreaming, dropping his wand to the floor. It cast a soft light on the room from it's position on the ground.

While he had not changed in physical appearance at all, she had. The thin shapeless body was now well curved. The unmanageable red hair was now a mass of fiery ringlets framing a perfect face. Sunburned and freckled skin was now spotless and beautifully pale. Green eyes, once lifeless and subdued, stared back into his own grey ones, full of question and fear and hope. 

If she was surprised to see him in her room, she did not show it though. There were many things in her eyes, but surprise was not one of them. This surprised him, however.

"I wondered when you would come." She whispered, clutching her blanket to her chest, seeking to cover herself from his eyes.

"You were expecting me?" He replied, reaching down inside and snatching out the three objects without any further problems.

She nodded. "I Saw it."

He shook his head, turning to look at her. So she was a Seer, then? With luck, she was learning the arts of it from someone other than Trelawney. That woman couldn't teach a person to breathe.

"Did you." He said, and she looked down at her coverlet. " I had no idea that anyone in your family had any sort of skill whatsoever. Congratulations."

She  stood up then, letting the coverlet fall. It was then that he saw why she wished to cover herself- She was dressed in a shift of a nightgown. A silvery green nightgown. It wasn't too revealing, but was tight enough that it left little to the imagination. Despite this, however, she stood in front of him, peering into his eyes.

"Did you come here to insult me then?"

He laughed a little. "No. I came for things worth much more than that."

She didn't say anything in return, just stood there, looking into his eyes without fear of him at all. This also surprised him. Was this the same child that had followed Potter around like a puppy? The same girl who had given in so easily to his Lord's wishes? The same girl who had cringed and hid from him and all like him?

They stood there for what seemed an eternity, sizing each other up, looking into each others eyes like it would reveal the others soul.

And then he did something he couldn't explain. Thirty years later, if he were to look back upon what he did then, he still would not know why he had done it. Perhaps it was the rain that was beginning to fall. Perhaps it was the look in her eyes. Perhaps it was his hidden loneliness. Perhaps he had meant to distract her and leave with the things he had come for.

No matter the reason, he closed the gap between them, which wasn't very large anyway, and put his hands in those fiery ringlets, and pulled her close to him, covering her lips with his own. And , again, to his surprise, she did not fight, only held him as close to her as he was holding her to him. The kiss deepened naturally for them both, and he felt her grip on him relax a little.

They sunk further and further into it, and the kiss became so much more than a physical touch, a physical joining of lips. They saw each other, truly saw each other, and sparked something inside of each other and themselves that was inextinguishable and unexplainable.

The connection was broken when there was a soft ping as something hit the bare wood floor. He pulled away, the noise bringing him back to what he thought, and hoped, were his senses.

"What was that?"

He looked at her, at the tear that was falling down her cheek, and then down at the floor, where there was a gold band with a diamond on it. A large diamond, even by his standards. And then he looked back at her, seeking an explanation she would not give, not yet.

"Take me with you." She whispered, the tear falling off her chin onto the nightgown, making a dark green stain at the top.

"What?"

"Take me with you." She repeated. "Before they make my future for me."

"What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?" 

"I'm to be married tomorrow. I've been promised. Promised to a man I have never met."

He shook his head then. Who was foolish enough to form an alliance with the Weasley's through an arranged marriage? It certainly wouldn't be a pureblood family; No one was that desperate. A half blood, or mudblood family perhaps.

"Who?"

Another tear fell from the corner of her eye. "Egorn Krum."

He cursed under his breath. His family had never taken well to the Krum's. They were the sort that his people looked down upon- People with no grace, no sophistication, no pride. But the Krum's were thought to be allies with him and his people. And their allies had no business marrying into the enemy.

That did however explain the elegance of this room compared to the shabbyness of the rest of the Weasley home. The things in the room had been bought for her, in an attempt to buy her heart, with money that the Krum's had made through their business with him and his people. A connection that would end when he returned home and told his allies.

"Please. Take me to another life. Take me for a pirate's wife. Take me where the wind blows. Take me where the red wine flows. Take me to the danger. Take me to the life of crime. Take me to the stars. Take me to the moon, while we still have time." She took in a sharp breath. "Just….take me away from here."

He almost felt like laughing. What she was asking him was…ridiculous. What could he do with her? Marry her? He would admit that she was beautiful, but the entire thing was so….spontaneous. And what was to stop her family from coming after them, accusing him of abducting her. He wouldn't mind having an excuse to be rid of the Weasleys, but in the long run, it would do him more harm than good.

"You owe me."

It was then that he did laugh. "For what?"

"My things. You're taking them."

He shook his head. "These are mine. They belong with me. If anything, it is you who owes me."

"The Time-Turner." She pointed to the little hourglass in his hand. "That belongs to me. And you're taking it."

He would never be sure where his words came from, but he did not stop to think before speaking. He just let them flow, for they seemed to fit. "After the rain has fallen, and the tears have washed your eyes. You will find that I have taken nothing that love cannot replace in the blink of an eye."

She was quiet for the moment, thinking about what he said. In the light coming from his wand, she looked almost ethereal. "So you won't take me with you then?"

"I may." He replied. "I may not."

"What do you mean?" 

"I will come for you at dawn, if I am so inclined to do so." 

"Oh, please. Just take me with you." Tears were falling from her cheeks like rain now. "I can be useful. I am well read, and taught. I can clean. I know how to cook. I-"

He brought his hand up to wipe away the tears that were staining her face. "Wait for dawn. This must be thought through."

"Why?" She sounded almost like a child now, her voice desperate and begging.

"We are two different people. Do you know who your father is? Who my father was? And who I am to become? Do you know what you would become if you came with me? Do you know what would happen to me, and my life? Did you even consider that?'

"But-"

He cut her off before she could answer him. "This is not something to be taken lightly! You ask a great thing of me. I can't be expected to be your knight without first knowing that I would need to polish my armor so it shines."

Her face still uncertain, she reached out and touched him, and he could almost feel the pull as she used her skill on him.

As quickly as he felt it, it was over. She laughed a little then, sniffling. Her tears slowed and ceased, as one last defiant tear ran down her cheek. "Dawn? Is that enough time to polish your armor?"

He knew that she had Seen something, he had felt it being sought out and taken from his subconscious. But whatever it was, she was masking it well. There was nothing in her eyes- They were simply green, and nothing more. And while he wanted to know what she had extracted from him, he let it go.

"I should think so."

Without another word, he left her there, his wand still on the ground, casting shadows and light around the room. 

He reappeared outside of the Hogs Head, the objects still griped tight in his hand. These he deposited in a deep pocket of his robe before kicking the first thing available-  A wooden bench in front of the bar. What was he to do? 

It seemed so simple, so easy, to just leave her there. She was Arthur Weasley's daughter, and Arthur Weasley and his allies were the enemies of his kind, which made her his enemy in every technical sense. 

But inside, with that hidden loneliness, was a part of him that knew she was better than some arranged marriage for more power. That she was better than Egorn Krum, the worthless backstabbing bastards that he and his family were.

The rain was falling steadily there, and he let it soak through his robes and the clothes beneath it, let it soak him to the bone, hoping against hope that it would shock and chill him back into 

reality, or at least to some sort of a decision.

But all it did was drench him and make him shiver. Hugging his wet robe to his body, he entered Hogs Head, not surprised at all to find it nearly empty, with the only exceptions being a group of drunken rowdy goblins in a booth at the corner, and Hagrid, passed out, with his head on the bar top.

He sat a good distance from the unconscious half-giant. Just what he didn't need. A drunken enemy trying to sit on him as though that would squash the Death Eaters as a whole. 

Madam Rosmerta smiled at him weakly from where she was adding up the goblin's tab as he sat down at the bar, holding up one slender finger to let him know she would be with him soon.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the objects and lined them up, one by one. The dairy, the Auraton, and the Time-Turner.

The diary was small, thin, and a shabby, worn color of black. It was blank inside, save for the letters T.M Riddle written perfectly on the first page. The back cover was blank as well, with the words Martha's Gift Shop, Vauxhall Road, London, written in gold lettering. But as simple as the diary seemed, it was indeed very powerful, and very magical.

Next was the Auraton. This was as far from simple as possible. The Auraton was actually a special stone, a stone found only deep down in the depths of the earth in Nubia. There were only two such stones, as it was nearly impossible to get down far enough to retrieve the stone and survive. Many attempts had been made, of course, but only two had succeeded. 

One Auraton belonged to the Malfoys, and the other had belonged to the Potter's, though it was anyone's guess where the stone was now.

The Malfoy stone was at least double the size of the Potter stone, and was set as a necklace. The stone itself was at the moment a pearly gray color; It hadn't been used in a year. But when in use, it shone different colors, to signify the mood and general aura of whomever you focused it's power on.

Finally, there was the Time-Turner. This was simple as well. It was a tiny hourglass, filled with red swirling whisps of smoke, and was attached to a fine silver chain that was long enough that a person could simply slip the entire necklace over their neck. But once they put it on, he noted as he inspected the chain, it was spelled so that only they could take it off again.

He was distracted from his inspections by the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Looking up, he found what he expected- Madam Rosmerta was making her way over to him. Sweeping the objects back into his pocket, he watched her come closer and closer, finally coming to a stop in front of him.

"What can I get you?" She said in a honeyed voice that made him sick.

"The strongest shot you've got." He replied, without haste. Anything to clear his mind.

The glass she set in front of him was normal enough- A regular sized shot glass. But the liquid she poured into it made him a bit nervous. It was purple, but had a green gleam to it, and was sizzling and smoking, and seemed to be eating through the glass.

"What is-"

She cut him off. "Drink up. Quick."

He didn't give his health another thought as he lifted the disintegrating glass to his lips, and tilted both glass and head back, pouring the liquid down his throat. It burned as it went down, like it was acid eating away his insides, but once it was down, he felt so much lighter. Like he could take on the world. He slammed the glass onto the bar, and Madam Rosmerta smiled again.

"Another."

He barely managed to speak as she poured more of the volatile liquid into the thinned glass. This time he didn't hesitate at all, just emptied it into his mouth and slammed the glass on the counter.

This time it was so thin it shatter with a loud noise, and he heard Rosmerta shriek, and he felt a large bit of glass go into his soft flesh, but what did he care? 

Rosmerta, a woman who cared more about the blood that was getting on her counter then his cut, regained her wits and pulled the glass out, lest she be brought before wizards council, and handed him a rag with which to clean up the blood.

"How much?" He asked, motioning toward the broken glass and the bottle of alcohol, which was made of steel or some other metal that could withstand its contents.

"On the house." She replied, smiling nervously at him.

And so he left, not caring to have a drunken quarrel with anything or anyone, and wandered out into the streets of Hogsmeade.

 And so he wandered about for an amount of time that he would never really recall, thinking out loud and kicking things, and clutching the blood soaked rag to his hand.

And the more he thought about it, the more he thought about her, the more he was convinced that she had to be saved from her family. They were going to extinguish a flame that should be allowed to burn freely and as much as it wanted to. They were going to extinguish it and send her off to be the wife of a man he would rather see dead then see him touching her, kissing her, be he "ally" or not.

So when he turned around, the fog of the alcohol in his mind clearing a bit, and saw the first rays of light of dawn turning the sky a pale lavender, he made up his mind.

He apparated back to her.

And she was there waiting, her things packed, and his wand in her hand. The rain was no longer falling, piddle-paddling against the roof, and she was respectfully dressed now in robes of black and a green dress beneath it.

"How did you know? To pack?" He asked. "How did you know I would be back?"

"I Saw it. And…."

"And?"

"Your wand was here."

"And?"

"The rain has fallen."

He nodded. For indeed, the rain had fallen. And after the rain had fallen, after the tears had washed her eyes, they had found that no one had taken anything that love didn't replace in the blink of their eyes at that moment.

And after the thunder had spoken, and the lightening bolt had been hurled and after the dreams of many had been broke, there was still love for them in the world.


End file.
